Wistfully
by fadedillusion101
Summary: She was gone. Brick still loved her, though. reds, r


**Author:** FadedIllusion101

**Title:** Wistfully

**Genre: **Romance

**Pairing: **Reds

**Rating:** T

**Disclaimer:** This upsets me. I think they're trying to rub it in. *Insert frowny face here.* No, don't own them.

**Summary:** And soon enough, he realized something. Something that he would've never admit if he hadn't let him self think. This something flipped his world upside down. It made him feel like he was having an adrenaline rush, like he was on cloud nine. It made him feel like he was on a rollercoaster, butterflies in his stomach waiting for the drop. He was in love.

**Notes: **Told in third person POV. Brick and Blossom are both around 17 years old and they have normal human features

**Wistfully**

He tossed her aside, and the petite girl went rocketing upwards and into the baby blue sky. His wine red eyes glaring at the retreating female, boring holes into her skin, questioning if she was even "alive." But she wasn't. "Alive," that is. Her rosy orbs are empty nowadays, staring off into the distance, never blinking at a sight. The girl hardly moves, only her fingers wiggle and curl. She doesn't talk anymore either, or laugh, or cry, or scream, she doesn't even smile. And it infuriates him. She was nothing but a mere shadow of herself.

Where did his counterpart go?

A moment or two later, the pink dot came plummeting down, and she slammed into the road, leaving a large crater in her wake. When she fell, she landed on her hips. He heard the sickening crack, and instantly knew they were broken. His steps echoed against the pavement as he walked towards her, the glare still on his chiseled face. As he peered into the crater, he saw the damage he had done to her.

Her obnoxiously big ribbon atop her head was knocked off, letting her auburn hair frame her heart-shaped face. His equivalent's hair was not the silky pumpkin color anymore, it was knotty, dirty, and it had blood laced into it, painting many strands a deep crimson. Cuts and bruises adorn her face, a deep gash right above her breathtaking coral eyes. Her lips were chapped and the bottom lip was busted, leaking with blood. Her neck and collarbone were fine, just dirty, and so was her torso. But her hips and legs had to be the worst. Her hips were loose, and as he confirmed earlier, they were broken. Some of the skin on her toned legs was scraped off, dark bruises everywhere he glimpsed.

Her arms worried him. It looked as if she was cutting a bunch of pizzas with all the gashes she had on her forearms. These were no itty bitty nothing-to-worry-about papercuts, these were intentional, profound, spine chilling knife wounds. There had to be at least thirty. Thirty puffy, bloody scars on his beloved.

He wanted to save her, he really did, to pull her out of this phase would make everything better for him. And her. Then things would go back to normal, where she would actually fight back. Though it hurts, he wished his counterpart would sock him in the face with her fiery attitude, throwing punch after punch after punch. It hurts even more when she's just laying there motionless. It hurts to the point where he can feel hot, thick tears pass his cheeks. It hurts to the point where he himself wants to fall into depression. It hurts to the point where he can literally feel his heart breaking into two. Or into a million of pieces, like shattered glass from a broken mirror.

He wonders why it hurts so much. He's supposed to hate this girl after all. Hell, he was born to hate this girl, to kick her girly butt into tomorrow. Ever since he could remember, he had fought this girl. Him and his brothers would strut out of their shack they "borrowed" from Fuzzy, stir up trouble, then kick some Powerpuff ass. Or vise versa. But as of a couple of months ago, when he actually looked at his counterpart, everything changed.

He noticed that his female equivalent was stunning. From her gorgeous hair to her dainty feet. Out of curiosity, he secretly measured how long her hair was, after knocking her out during a weekly brawl. Five feet. Her hair was over five feet long. The red locks were almost taller than her, his counterpart being 5'2". He counted each and every adorable freckle he could see on her skin, it came out to a whopping thirty-nine. He watched her full, pink lips frown when she saw him, the way her nose would wrinkle, and the way her thin eyebrows would furrow. He'd study the way she walked, her hips swaying from side to side. When she wasn't looking, he'd study her perfect figure, his eyes locked on her pale arms, small waist, muscular legs. It took all his power not to run over to her and run his calloused hands up and down her body.

Aside from her physically appearance, he noticed how smart and intelligent she was. In class, her hand would fly up to answer every question, the teacher would call on her and she would answer professionally and maturely. He'd be in the back of the classroom watching her intensely, listening to every question she answered. He also took note of how shy she was, anyone she'd talk to it was like she was a timid hermit crab backing into it's shell. It was cute, watching her blush like a tomato and fidget when a boy talked to her. But when the boys turned around they locked eyes with a muscular teenager with a red cap and intense red eyes, ferociously staring them down until they squirmed under his hard gaze.

They would never talk to her again. Hell, they wouldn't even be caught a mile near her, fearing that if they were, the leader of the Rowdyruffs would batter them to the point where they could be considered baby mush.

Good.

Soon enough he found himself outside her bedroom window, watching her in her sleep, her hair hanging off the edge of the bed, her face snuggling into a plush pillow, her arms tightly clutched a teddy bear. He couldn't help himself, she was to captivating. To alluring. Every little thing she did roped him in even further. And every time he'd reach home, he couldn't even think straight, his heart was pounding to loudly, ringing in and out of his ears.

When he could find his train of thought, the first thing that came to mind never shocked him.

_I hate that teddy bear._

The boy would have daydreams of them together, hugging and giggling in a coffee shop. Sometimes, it'd be him and her sleeping together, her frail form tucked against his, a strong-arm around her waist. Other times he'd picture them skipping towards the park where he would push her on the swing. Watching a sunset. Enjoying a movie, throwing popcorn and catching it in their mouths. Playing a video game and letting her win, being the gentleman he is. Flying high through the sky, hand in hand, the stars twinkling brightly above him. Him and her, in bed beside one another with their legs in a tangled mess, him roughly kissing her neck, her moaning his name in bliss, her fingers lacing into his auburn hair.

A particular favorite of his. No man could argue with that.

Whenever she was near, he would trip and fall over his own words, stuttering and repeating simple questions. She'd glare and tell him to stop wasting her time, then zip off with her signature color trailing behind her. The poor boy would feel dizzy, like the world was spinning around him.

One time he smashed into her, and both went tumbling to the ground, their books spilling everywhere. His face flushed and he blurted out a quick apology, she shoved him away and swiftly flew off to class. He placed a hand over his heart to try to calm the fast pace. Even an hour after, it was still beating a mile a minute, a blush the color of his hat still coated him from head to toe.

Man, did he feel like a dipshit that day.

A couple of weeks later, she wasn't attending school, and when she did, she'd seem out of it and tried to avoid him at all costs. She never associated with the friends she normally talked to, like the meek girl with robin egg irises. She wouldn't go out and fight crime to defend the city of Townsville and it's citizens. His counterpart began to have sudden outbursts, emotional breakdowns, and her fiery temper began to appear more often. People were frightened of the new personality for the leader of the Powerpuffs. His stomach flipped and flopped and turned inside out.

And soon enough, he realized something. Something that he would've never admit if he hadn't let him self think. This something flipped his world upside down. It made him feel like he was having an adrenaline rush, like he was on cloud nine. It made him feel like he was on a rollercoaster, butterflies in his stomach waiting for the drop.

He was in love.

And here he was, beating the living piss out of her. What a gentleman he was.

"Blossom, I don't want to do this," he breathed deeply, the glare still etched on his face. The girl didn't move, she didn't even blink. And it didn't even look like she was breathing, but he knew she was by the faint rise and fall of her chest. He sat on his knees next to her, drinking her in with his eyes. Not in a perverted way though. This wasn't the time for that.

He didn't want to do this, it was only to get some answers about why she's been acting this way, miserable and disheartened. "Please," he rasped desperately, "please don't make me do this to you." He couldn't even bear to think about harming her any longer. He shook his head and his fists clenched, "Where's the leader we all knew and loved? Huh? Where is she!"

Blossom's gaze hardened a tad as she stared at the drifting clouds, the blinding sun showering down on her. "She's gone," she whispered to light for the human ear to catch, but he heard it, loud and clear. He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice, velvety and rich like honey.

"What do you mean she's gone?" His brow furrowed, "She's there, Red, deep down inside of you damn soul! And I'm going to bring her back, even if it breaks every fucking bone in my body, I'll bring that girl back," Brick brutal garnet eyes were starting to tear up, he rubbed them away aggressively.

Blossom shook her head, "You can't," she attempted to scoot away from him, as if she was terrified of him. He shuffled closer to her, so close that he can smell the strawberry scented soap she used, so close that he can see the strands in her eyes and the freckles on her pastel skin.

"Why not?" he roared, furious at the world. Furious at how deep Blossom's depression was. Furious at himself for making his beloved flinch and nearly jump out of her skin.

She didn't reply...

"Red, please," he begged, letting the thick tears fall freely. "What happened to you?" He gently pulled her into his arms and rocked her back and forth, letting her cry on his broad shoulder. Her frail body shook with sobs as he rubbed her back soothingly, whispering sweet nothings into her ears. She wrapped her arms around his neck like a vine and tugged at his auburn mane, his hold around her waist tightened.

"What happened to you?" he whispered as the wind untangled the bow in his counterpart's wispy hair. The ribbon gracefully fluttered in the air, letting the wind effortlessly carry it away into the glowing horizon, along with his intelligent, cunning, and alluring counterpart.

* * *

**A/N:**

That was the sequel to _Insomnia_. Review. If you want, of course.


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